Five Drabbles Outlining Perfect Happiness

Author: Regala ElectraE-mail: regala_electra@yahoo.comRating (overall): RFandoms: BtVS, A:tS, PotC, FS, and The O.C.Author's Notes: Yes, so scribbling 'how to attain perfect happiness' doesn't always mean you are just being sarcastic. Somehow, because I'm insane, I thought it was very logical to do five drabbles (of course they're all a bit longer than 100 words) in several of the fandoms I've written. And I wrote two threesome fics! Rejoice with me, my friends. Rejoice.

Oh and I totally mess around with so many cliches, it's not enough funny, but actually, it then becomes totally funny.

Psst, netweight, there's B/A/S! OMG!!!! *g* And to my fond Farscape buddies, I wrote a Farscape drabble/ficlet too! It's like Christmas, only earlier.

searching for the first tasteFandom: PotCPairing: Jack/Will/ElizabethRating: RSpoilers: Clearly, set after the movie, sometime in the future

*

It's Jack who has made them all addicted. There, in the cool night breeze, they recline under the trees, to each their own preferences, Jack to his rum, Will to his coconut flavored sweets, and Elizabeth to the first plucked ripe mango. But they each enjoy the same thing: that fresh sweetness, the craving of that first burst of taste.

They come back to the island, many times, unloading their goods, and spend a few nights together, sometimes getting drunk enough to sing Elizabeth's pirate song (it is Will who has to drink half of Jack's rum before he'd dare join in with the chorus).

Until the rum and the food are nearly gone, then they part, Will and Elizabeth to their life together, Jack to his adventures (along with his constant cat and mouse game with Commodore Norrington).

This night, it is Elizabeth who strips off her gowns, her skin a healthy glow against the bonfire. Her hair, as it always is on this island, is free and whips across her face, caught in the Caribbean breeze. She holds out her hands, reaching for the both of them to join her. Jack, in all his madness, the carefree one, is the one that leaves the gentlest kisses, and it is Will that kisses her with the force of hurricane.

She watches Jack and Will dare to come closer to one another and she cannot help but come closer, helping each strip off their loose shirts, and it is Jack who grabs her, but gently, and brings her into the fold. They clamber onto a makeshift bed under the stars and spend the night together.

When the morning comes, they will depart for their separate lives.

Silently, as they lie together in the peaceful stretch of the lonely island, they are all waiting for the next time at the island.

"I love you daft bastards," Spike drunkenly declares after Angel's licked the strip of salt off of his neck and Buffy's taken the lemon wedge from his mouth, sucking hard on the bitter juice and tossing the rind onto the bar.

Buffy then takes care to pour a healthy amount of tequila in their double shot glasses, only sloshing a little around the surface of the bar. "Oil," Buffy remarks, nodding her head as she strips off her shirt.

"Next time," she explains, pulling off her bra and even if Spike could remember what nutty thing she'd been saying, he'd lost any notion of his senses after seeing the Slayer's toned body. He hopes he isn't the one making that odd noise as she pours a good amount of tequila down her chest.

Still holding the shaker, poised in mid-air, he watches Angel move away, grabbing the bottle and pouring a small amount into Buffy's open mouth. Their kiss is thankfully not gentle, Spike certainly would start mocking them if any of their star-crossed nonsense interrupted the debauchery and he decides to use to the time to strip off the rest of his clothes.

Angel reaches back to him, breaking away from the Slayer, and crushes his mouth to Spike, their mouths tasting only of alcohol and damned good alcohol at that.

*

finding yourself in post-coital blissFandom: The O.C.Pairings: Ryan/Seth, Seth/SummerRating: RSpoilers: set after events in S1, but no episodes clearly referenced

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Climbing out of Ryan's bed, completely naked, in the early hours of morning, Seth's attempt to leave quietly is squandered when he steps on the remote, ushering the TV to life. Groggily, Ryan turns over, leaning on one arm and softly, far too casually, says, "You leaving, man?"

Seth scrambles to grab a discarded t-shirt from the floor, covering himself and blurts out, "I love Summer."

Ryan smiles slowly and a warmth, that feeling he'd only had around Summer, is rushing through his body, "I get it, Seth."

"But," he says, realizing this is the moment, and he finds himself at a loss for words. He is all energy, but he doesn't dare move.

Ryan slides out of bed, stopping right in front of Seth, and offers a gentle kiss to the side of Seth's open mouth. "She loves you. Go back to her."

"Ry..." he breaks off, so many thoughts in his head that they all cancel each other out.

"Hey," and Ryan's hand is on his shoulder, "I'll always be here for you. I'm not going anywhere. Whatever last night means, it doesn't mean we're not still friends."

"Iloveyoutoo," he manages, his eyes not focusing on Ryan's face. He can't, he can't believe he said that.

"Seth?" Ryan quirks up an eyebrow, gesturing to make Seth focus on him, "I've always known that."

Ryan picks up Seth's boxers from the floor. They don't talk anymore and Seth can't resist a fleeting kiss after he gets dressed.

He thinks he might be finally getting it.

*

broken necks still ringing with the aftereffectsFandom: A:tSPairing: Wesley/LilahRating: RSpoilers: Set after S5, "Shells"

*

It is after, after they wait so many days for the end to come, after all has fallen, that Illyria snaps Wesley's neck, but he did not mind. In fact, he did nothing at all, but loosen the material around his neck to make it easier. She had watched him do it, but as promised, she did nothing to stop him.

Lilah sits next to him in the haze between the living and the dead, combing through legal briefs as she waits for him to speak. He doesn't, and she finally decides to break silence, damn the consequences. "Why'd you make that deal?"

He looks over one of her briefs, outlining the deal between Wolfram and Hart and the Old Ones. It isn't going to work, of course, but the Senior Partners are willing to do anything to save their necks. She unconsciously adjusts her scarf, knowing Wesley is staring at her.

"Because if I could live without a heart, I could certainly die without a conscience."

Her cold fingers touch his bare wrist; he's rolled up his bloody sleeves.

"Do you remember?"

She hadn't meant to say it. It's a stupid hope and she hates that he can still get to her, even after he's damned himself willingly.

He takes her hand, "Everything."

*

waiting for the fairytale to come into focusFandom: FarscapePairings: John/Aeryn, Chiana/D'ArgoRating: PGSpoilers: S4 FinaleAuthor's Extra Notes: Yes! Miniseries at the end of this year! I shall give myself a Hell Yeah!

*

"Pip?" She wakes from her slumber (she's been sleeping so much, the last regimen that was supposed to 'heal' her only made her system slow and lethargic, and it has yet to fully filter out), the voice, no it can't be.

There is a shape: vague, colorless, a pale murky shadow.

She knows D'Argo is coming in, she smiles at the dark block moving until it stops, sitting next to her.

Another walks by and sits at her other side. Hand taking, then clasping, her own. It is cool, callused like a warrior's. She can make out a vague trace of their hands, but that is all.

But the other, the shape still at the threshold, waiting, does not yet move.

And she knows. Taking in a deep breath, she says, "I thought..."

The shape finally moves forward, and the kiss to her temple is soft, different. John. "Long story."

She looks in the wispy shadow of him and can make something out, two faint pinpricks, light of color. Eyes.

"I want to hear all it, Crichton," she lightly demands and Crichton, sitting on the bed with her, his hand stroking her leg, chuckles.

"We are very fortunate," Aeryn says," and Chiana has no response beyond squeezing her hand, just once. Aeryn responds in kind.

Crichton's voice is exactly as she remembers. "Once upon a time, two people were standing on a boat..."